The Name Game
by Mizalaye
Summary: **Complete**Have you ever wondered how some of the newsies got their really bizarre nicknames? Cowboy and Specs are fairly obvious, but what about...say...Bumlets or Itey? When a blizzard hits Manhattan, the stories spill out!!!


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THE NAME GAME

by Mizalaye

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Author's Note: This story is simply my opinion on how the newsies got some of those bizarre nicknames....with a slight bit of plot to bind it into some semblance of order. Please review and tell me what you think of my ideas!

Another Note: It's been a while since I watched the movie. If I have mixed up some of the locations of the guys' bunks, please let me know. I'll be happy to fix it.

Yet Another Note: Muchos credit to Gypsy for the definition of "snoddy." Eternal gratitude to "me goyls" for your ongoing support.

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A bitterly cold day, sometime during the winter of 1899-1900

Racetrack awakened slowly, stretching comfortably under his blanket. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open in panic, focusing on the top of the bunk above him, as his mind clicked into gear. _I's late! I must'a missed da wake-up call!_ Then, his memory caught up with him, and he remembered Kloppman's announcement the evening before.

"Dis stoa'm looks like it's toinin' into a blizza'd. If it don't get any betta' by mornin', I won't wake anybody up tomorra'."

Discerning that the nasty weather of the day before must not have improved, Race lazily shifted positions on his bed and scanned the bunkroom. Crutchy, in the next bunk, was clearly awake, as his eyes were open. The two boys above them might have been awake, but Race couldn't see them from his position. No other forms so much as stirred in the room.

"Mornin', Race," Crutchy whispered, noticing the Italian's open eyes.

"Moa'nin'. Da udda' guys awake?" Race asked in his thick Brooklyn accent.

"I don't think so."

"I is," Snoddy's voice replied, floating down from above, "but Blink's still sleepin'."

Just then, the bed above Race's began to move. A moment later, Kid Blink's patch-garbed face poked over the edge. "Mornin', boys."

"Shoa' feels good to sleep in," Crutchy commented, stretching.

"Only problem is, it's cold out dere. I don't wanna get out from unda' dis blanket," Dutchy suddenly replied from the bunk beyond Snoddy's.

Silence wrapped its own comfortable blanket around the bunkroom. It shattered at the distinctive sound of a stomach growling. The boys laughed, breaking the remainder of the quiet's hold.

"Unfortunately, food is only for dose who get up," Specs put in ruefully from a few bunks away.

Slowly, the guys - those that were awake, at least - forced themselves out of bed. Once in the icy air, however, their movements quickened as they dressed as fast as possible, eager to reach the fire-warmed lobby. When they did, they found the leader of Manhattan already awake and downstairs.

"Kloppman's got breakfast in da dining hall," Jack informed them, "but it ain't a pretty sight." He whispered the last phrase, not eager to bring Kloppman's wrath onto his head.

"Thanks for da warnin'," Bumlets replied wryly. "Do ya know da time?"

Specs, the nearest newsie with a pocket watch, checked it. "'Bout seven-thoity," he informed them.

"Wow! We really slept!" Blink exclaimed.

Mush, the only other newsie who was currently awake, waved to the large group of newsies as they wandered into the Dining Hall.

The atmosphere in the Lodging House that morning was cheerful and laid-back as the newsies set out to fully enjoy their unexpected holiday. As the hours passed, however, the freedom-loving newsies began getting restless and bored. Tempers began to fray, several arguments broke out, and Kid Blink and Racetrack would have gotten into a fistfight if Jack had not intervened.

Finally, Kloppman, who had been observing the growing tension, suggested, "Why don't ya have a story-tellin' time?"

The idea met with unanimous approval, as the majority of the newsies were growing rapidly sick of card games. Minutes later, the cards had vanished, and the newsies had formed a rough circle. The younger boys remained upstairs playing marbles, a game they never seemed to tire of, but all the older boys had joined the circle.

"I's got an idea," Boots spoke up bravely. "Why don't we all tell da story a' how we got our newsie names?"

"They ought to be pretty obvious," Skittery replied tersely in his noticeably un-accented voice.

"Not _awl _of 'em," Racetrack retorted. "'Sides, most people don't know da whole story a' ev'rybody's name."

"It's a good idea," Jack broke in, preventing yet another argument. "I'll start." He cleared his throat dramatically. "I joined da newsies when I was about eight, but I'd always loved da West, especially Santa Fe, an' I'd always wanted ta be a cowboy. Me motha' had given me da hat an' da bandanna for me eighth boithday. I came hea', an' Brit -" Jack stopped as he thought of something. "For dose of ya dat don't know, Brit was da leada' befoa' me. Dey called him Brit 'cause he was from England an' he talked real funny. Anyways, Brit was standin' in da lobby when I came in, an' he said, 'Look, we's got oua'selves a cowboy!' Afta' dat, ev'rybody just called me Cowboy."

"My toin," said Kid Blink, who was sitting next to Jack. "Da newsies was gonna call me Patch, 'cause I had one. But den one a' da olda' guys, who wasn't real nice, yelled, 'Hey, kid! Blink for me!'" Blink's face flushed ever so slightly at the memory. "A'coa'se, I couldn't, an' I was gettin' real upset, when somebody - I don't even rememba' who, now - told me dat I should use dat for me nickname. I asked him wat he meant, an' he said dat I should call meself Kid Blink. So, I did." He turned to his right. "Ya toin, Mush."

"When I foist got hea', dey mostly called me 'kid,'" the curly-haired newsie said. A'coa'se, dat didn't woik since dat's wat dey used ta call Blink. Den, one day, Blink an' me were sellin' an' dis goyl walked by. She was holdin' dis really tiny li'l' dog -" here, Mush shot a razor-edged glare at Kid Blink - "an' I was starin' at _da dog _so hard I tripped ova' me own feet. Blink told ev'rybody dat I'd toined ta mush when I saw da pretty goyl. Dey's been callin' me Mush eva' since."

Crutchy, seated next to Mush, eagerly took up the story. "When I came, most a' da guys started callin' me Gimp. A'coa'se, I didn't like dat name much, but deya' was nothin' I was gonna do 'bout it. Finally, afta' a couple days, Jack hoid 'em callin' me dat, an' he said, 'Now, we can't have a newsie called Gimp. It makes ya sound like a wuss. How 'bout we call ya...Crutchy?' It took a li'l' bit of 'convincin'' from Brit, but da name finally caught on."

Snoddy grinned and took over. "Me name could only have come from Brit. I was hea' for nea'ly a whole week befoa' dey finally came up wit' one. I's pretty organized, as most of ya know. Well, Brit saw me pickin' up me things an' said, 'Looks like we's got oua'selves a real snoddy one, boys!' Ev'rybody else was real confused, 'cause we all thought he said 'snotty,' as in, stuck up, an' Brit was neva' one for insults 'less ya desoived 'em. Brit kinda laughed an' asked if we knew wat 'snoddy' meant. A'coa'se, we all said no, an' he told us it meant neat an' tidy. Well, ev'rybody else thought it was an odd woid, so dey just started callin' me Snoddy."

"I ain't totally shoa' how I got me name," Dutchy said. "When I foist got hea', I didn't know any English. All I knew was 'Dutchy' meant me."

"All we knew 'bout ya was da country ya came from, so we called ya da Dutch boy, which kinda toined inta Dutchy," Kid Blink put in, grinning widely at the other blonde.

Specs took his turn. "All da guys hea' could think of was somethin' ta do wit' me glasses, an' I liked 'Specs' betta' den 'Foa-eyes.' I don't rememba' who came up wit' it, though."

When all eyes turned to Pie Eater, who sat in the next chair, he looked around innocently, as if ignorant of the fact that it was his turn.

"If you don't tell da story, Pie, I will," Jack threatened.

"All right, all right!" Pie raised his hands in surrender. "When I got hea', Snipeshoota' was real li'l', 'bout five or so. Well, da weatha' was real rainy, so everythin' was muddy an' slick. One moa'nin', Snipes an' a couple a' da li'l' boys made mud pies out front. I came runnin' out da front doa', an' slipped on da wet steps. I went ova' da railin' an' landed face-foist inta Snipes' mud pie. Snipes jumped up an' yelled, 'Hey! You'se eatin' me pie!' Jack helped me up an' said, 'I think we's got you a nickname. Ev'rybody, meet Pie Eata'!' So, I was stuck wit' it."

Skittery went next. "My name came from Brit. I was pretty jumpy the first couple a' weeks, an' not used to bein' around so many people all the time. Well, Mush came up behind me an' said 'Hiya.' I wasn't expectin' somebody to come up on me like that, an' I jumped high enough to fall off my chair. Mush said, 'You're awful...uhm...what's the word?' an' Brit suggested 'skittery.' Mush said, 'Yeah...skittery,' an' I've been called that ever since."

Swifty took the next turn. "Brit came up wit' mine, too. We had a race between da Lodgin' Houses soon afta' I came. I got second place, just behind dis Ha'lem kid who'd neva' been beat. Da guys all decided me name had ta be somethin' fast. Brit came up wit' 'swift,' an' dey added da 'y.'"

Bumlets flushed ever so slightly, realizing that it was his turn. "Mine's kinda pointless." He paused, clearly hoping he would be skipped.

"Don't make me tell it," Jack warned.

With a sigh, Bumlets began, "When I foist became a newsie, I kinda had me head in da clouds a lot."

"When he _foist_ came?" Race muttered sarcastically.

Bumlets ignored him. "I'd just be sittin' somewhea', thinkin', an' one of da otha' guys would yell, 'Hey, ya bum! Let's go!' Usually, dey'd get to 'let's,' an' I'd look up an' say, 'Wat?' Afta' a li'l' while, dey started just sayin', 'Hey, bum, let's..." an' I'd answer. Eventually, dey just started callin' me Bumlets. I didn't like it at foist, but it kinda grew on me, I guess."

Snitch sat on Bumlet's other side. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat when the dark-haired boy finished, but didn't wait for Jack to threaten. "Most of ya know dis, but I used ta be a pickpocket. Old habits are hard ta break, an' I nicked things from a few pockets da foist couple a' weeks. People just started callin' me a snitch. Eventually, dey didn't mean it as an insult no moa', but da name still stuck."

Now it was Jake's turn. "I came hea' when I was really li'l'. I liked ta follow Jack around, copyin' him. It really annoyed him, but da otha' guys thought it was really funny; dey all thought dey should call me Li'l' Jack. Cowboy wasn't real happy wit' da idea, but he said dey could call me Jake. So, dey did."

Itey told his story briefly and softly. "Da guys had a real hard time comin' up wit' a name for me. Finally, Race said dey should just call me Itey, shoa't for 'Da Italian boy.'" He shrugged.

Boots grinned as he took his turn. "I used ta be a shoe-shine boy, an' people always said me face was as black as da boots I shone. I was too li'l' ta realize dat it was s'posed ta be an insult, so I started callin' meself Boots."

"Brit came up wit' my name, too," Snipeshooter said. "I got a slingshot soon afta' I got hea', an' I accidentally shot him in da head wit' it. A'coa'se, I ducked outta' sight, 'cause I didn't wanna get in trouble. So Brit looks around an' yells, 'Who's da snipa'?' Somebody asked him wat a snipa' was, an' Brit said it was a shoota'. So, when he found me, Brit said, 'So, you'se oua' snipa'-shoota'!' It kinda changed inta Snipeshoota' ova' da next month or so."

Racetrack, the final member of the circle, completed the story-telling. "When I foist got hea', I actually spent even moa' time at da races den I do now. Jack was standin' in da lobby one evenin', an' I wawked in behind him, but he didn't see me. Jack asked, 'Whea's dat racetrack kid?' an' Mush asked him who Racetrack was, t'inkin' he was sayin' a name instead a' a description. Well, I kinda liked da sound a' it, so I said, 'I's Racetrack,' an' t'anked Cowboy fer comin' up wit' me name."

Silence swept across the room. Everybody glanced furtively at everybody else; nobody was willing to break the awkward silence.

Finally, Jack asked, "Now wat?"

"Now, we have dinna'," Kloppman announced.

An immediate rush for the dining hall door followed these words. 

The story session had raised everybody's spirits, and the afternoon passed smoothly, with only a few arguments and nothing that could be considered a true fight. 

The newsies headed for bed a bit earlier than usual, ready for a good night's sleep - a relief from the monotony of the day.

As the lamps were extinguished, Mush commented to the room, "It was great ta have a day off, wasn't it?"

From the sudden darkness, somebody replied, "Yeah...but I's actually gonna be _glad _ta get back ta woik tomorra'!"

"Dat's gotta be a foist!"

"Definitely!"

"_G'night_, boys!"

Following this emphatic declaration, the boys settled into their pillows and slept the remainder of the blizzard away, more rested and far more knowledgeable then they had been when they woke up that morning.

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Author's Note: Well, that's it! Please, please, PLEASE review and let me know what you thought!!!! 


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